Letting Go

A man tells the story of the day he finally let go.

            You looked cute in a weird way as you squirmed in your desk during Biology.  I mean, seeing videos about the insides of various animals made everyone in the whole class squirm, but they weren't as cute, or graceful, as your particular movements.  You couldn't help but glance over at me to see if I was equally grossed out, but when you caught me silently laughing at you, you gave me a playful glare.

            Sitting beside you was always the highlight of that class.  I mean, as the years progressed you basically became my only friend anyway, as terrible as that sounds.  Not that having you as an only friend is bad, of course, but the fact that I went from a boatload to only one.  I honestly can't complain, though.  I could barely carry on a conversation with them, let alone expect to hear from them every day, like with you.

            The bell rang just at that second, and we were out of the door before it finished.

            I remember it feeling particularly warm that day.  Well, more half cold, half warm.  A gentle breeze tagged along like an ever-loving little sibling, and it felt like the day couldn't possibly get any better.

            The school was a mile behind us as we walked through the nearly empty neighborhood.  Something had been building inside of me that whole day, ready to explode the second I wasn't paying attention.  "So, uh, Julie," I never got nervous, so, of course, you picked up on it immediately.

            "What's up?"

            "I, well I kind of have a bit of a confession to make," I exhaled slowly without even realizing it.

            "Oh yeah?  Like what?  Did you snag some money from me when I wasn't looking?" you were now walking backwards in front of me, laughing.

            You were wearing a white dress, and the bubbly, proud to show off sun made the garment appear much brighter than it really was.  It was the first time I can really recall you wearing a dress since we were maybe five or six-years-old.  It sticks out in my memory really well for some reason, always has.  To be honest, the dress almost looked exactly like the one you wore so long ago.

            "Ha, nothing like that," my voice was shaky.

            "Then what?" your voice and composure was so cheery.

            "Well, I think I might, you know, love you," the words came out a lot less smoothly than I had planned.

            You let out a small--- I wouldn't call it giggle, but something along the lines of that, which instantly embarrassed me.  "I already knew that, silly!" your voice even more playful, with only a hint of seriousness.

            I was completely taken aback, but I tried to maintain my mental balance.  "How long have you known?"

            "Bout eight years," you didn't miss a beat.

            "What, how?"

            "Remember Gloria's birthday party?"

            "Yeah, it was the last time I ever even talked to her."

            "I think most of us fit in that category.  Anyway, one of the other kids straight up destroyed the piñata which was in the shape of--- I can't remember,"

            "A boat, for some weird reason," I said.  It was still fresh in my mind.  That whole day was.

            "Right," your smile got even bigger.  "A random boat.  You always got all the answers.  So, one of the kids managed to get the candy out, and I wasn't about to jump into the mob of kids for any of it.  You looked over and saw that there was no chance I'd have any, so you dove head first into the ocean of crazed candy maniacs without a moment's hesitation."

            Your mind was now somewhere else.  Somewhere far away.  You were back in that day.  That innocent, carefree day.

            "What?  I didn't even know I loved you at that point, how could you?"

            "Oh, you knew it; you just didn't know you knew it."

            We were both smiling.  I drifted back to that day with you.

            "Yeah, I could see how much you wanted the candy, even if you didn't outright show it.  Seeing that alone was enough to make me risk injury for you."

            "Out of the dog pile of kids, you emerged with a handful of candy.  Apparently you even caught a kick to the eyebrow."

            "I still have the scar as a trophy," I mumbled touching the scar.

(Even today I caught myself rubbing my permanently damaged eyebrow.)

            "A trophy that I love.  When you walked over to me, grabbed my hand and emptied the candy into my palm with a coy smile, I knew."

            "Just like that?"

            "Just like that."

            We were standing in front of your house now.  It’s looked the same since the very first time I saw it.  "I can’t go home," your eyes didn't dare look at the never-changing house.

            "Alright.  Where to then?" I tried to hide my excitement.  Every second spent with you was better than the last.

            You pointed down the road to our right.  "That way.  That way looks adventurous, right?"

            We both knew where that road eventually led, but pretending it was some foreign trail for today didn't bother me in the least.  On we marched.  "So, this whole time you knew," I finally said after your house was clear out of view.

            "Yup.  To be honest, that was the moment I knew I loved you as well."  You spoke so nonchalantly.  It made me stop dead in my tracks.

            "You--- I--- Why didn't you tell me?"

            "The same reason you didn't tell me, I suppose."

            "Too bad someone else came and took you away, huh?"

            You were suddenly sad.  You even apologized for it, no matter what I said.  I wasn't mad, you had nothing to apologize for, but you wouldn't hear of it.  If anything I should have apologized for bringing it up.

            "But," your smile somehow returned, "You never know how it'll turn out in the future.  It could happen one day."

            "That would be nice."

            It took me a minute to realize we were now standing in front of the four store plaza we used to hang out around all the time.  I still smile every time I think about you pointing out the fact that it's one of the worst hangout spots in the city, and probably world for that matter.

            “We haven’t been in this place in months," I said, pointing at our reflections in the antique clock store's window.

            "You're right.  We used to come here almost every day," you said, your voice sounding hypnotic.

            "Which I still think is weird.  Let's go in," I said, already making my way to the entrance.

            "Are you sure?  Maybe we should keep going," you said, trying to walk away.

            "Come on, it'll only be for a minute," I pushed through the door.

            "Alright, we have to visit Coo-Coo anyway," you said, squeezing past me.

            The clock store was exactly the way it always was.  It still smelled like old wood, and cigar smoke.  The ticking clocks surrounded us in a symphony of precious time.  The old man who owned the place had been there for years and years, but neither of us had ever bothered to ask him his name, and I’m still not really sure why.  When the man spotted us, he shot us a sad smile while giving a weak wave.  You waved back at him, but he just turned away, as if he didn’t really want to look at us anymore.

            “Hm,” you said; your brow slightly furrowed.  “Anyway,” your now excited gaze shifted back to me.  “Let’s go see Coo-Coo!”

            You grabbed my arm and dragged me to the back of the store before I even had a chance to open my mouth.  I barely remember the first time we saw that huge, ugly, blue and white cuckoo clock.  The main thing that’s stuck in my brain is the moment you decided that it wasn’t ugly, it was just special.  You talked about how you just couldn’t fight the feeling that the clock had a beautiful past.  Something about how it must have been made out of love, so the artwork was perfect.  I still say it’s ugly, but I think I understand what you meant a little better now.  You decided it should be named, and after a few moments of deep thought, you came up with Coo-Coo the Clock.  I actually remember how much it hurt when you punched my arm after I laughed at your unoriginality.

            Coo-Coo was still in the same spot it had been forever.  It seemed like no one really wanted to buy it, yet it was still one of the most expensive clocks in the entire store.  I promised that I would start saving money and buy it for you, no matter how long it took.  “I’m still forty dollars short,” I mumbled, severely disappointed in myself.

            “I told you that you didn’t really have to buy it for me, you know,” you said, sliding your finger across the clock’s smooth wood.

            “Yeah, I know, but when I told you I was going to buy it, you lit up.  Besides, you’re the only one here who actually wants that thing.”

            “That’s because I have excellent taste, dear sir,” you said, holding an invisible monocle to your right eye.

            “I’ll give you that one.  You ready to leave?”

            Just then, the old man came over to me, smiling that same sad smile as before.  “I know how much that clock means to you,” he was choked up.  “I got a call from someone saying they wanted to buy it.”

            Your head dropped, your lungs released a pain-filled sigh.  “I told them someone already bought it,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders.

            “But I don’t have all the money for it yet,” I said.

            “I know, last time we talked you were still fifty-seven dollars short.  I pay attention, you know,” he actually let out a soft chuckle.  “Just take it, pay me when you get the money, okay?”

            When he said that, you lit up, just like that day.  “Thank you…” I paused.

            “Edgar, and don’t worry about it,” he said as he grabbed the clock and handed it to me.

            With that we said our goodbyes again as we left the place.  When we were outside, you jumped up and down like you just won the lottery.  “I can’t believe we finally got Coo-Coo!”

            “You got Coo-Coo.  He’s yours.”  I started to hand him to you, but you shook your head.

            “The guy is supposed to carry the heavy stuff.  Don’t you know anything?”

            “It’s not even heavy, but fine, as you wish, milady,” I said, bowing my head.  “So, you ready to go home?”

            “You know I can’t go there,” your expression had changed in seconds.

            “Well then, where do you want to go?” I asked, looking down the road.

            “You know where we have to go now,” your voice had lost all traces of cheeriness, and it kind of scared me.

            “I think you lost me, kid,” I said.

            “Just follow me,” you whispered, before running down the road.

            I did all I could to hold on to that silly clock while chasing after you.  After too many left and right turns, we were there.  Hollow Rock Cemetery.

            “I don’t want to be here, Julie,” I said, turning to leave.

            You grabbed my arm, pulling me back.  “Come on, it’s not much farther.”

            It only took a few minutes to get deeper inside the cemetery.  Eventually, we were in front of a tombstone that was only a few months old.  You knelt in front of it, tracing the name with your finger.  I dropped down beside you, feeling a lump grow in my throat as I read the name.  “Why did you bring me here?” I said, feeling the tears start to stream down my face.

            “Because,” you put your hand on my cheek.  “You have to let go.  You can’t hold on forever,” your eyes went back to the name on the headstone; your name.

            “I can’t.”

            “You can.  Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.  I won’t let you waste your life over me, you understand?” you put on your best tough-girl face.

            I couldn’t help but smile.  “What am I supposed to do without you?”

            “Live a great life, get married, have a whole bunch of kids, and become a millionaire,” you said, cocking your head to the side.

            “You think so?”

            “I know so.  You’ll be okay,” you said, standing up.  You reached your hand out.

            “Yeah, I’ll be okay,” I said wiping my face.  I propped the clock against your tombstone.  It was perfect, almost as if that was meant to be Coo-Coo’s home from the very start.

(Even after many years, it’s still there, looking the exact same as that day.)

I grabbed your hand, and you helped me up.  “I’m gonna miss you,” I said.

“I know,” you replied, smirking.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten.  When I opened them, you were gone.  I held my head high as I turned and headed out, ready to live a great life.

Author's Note

Not really good at this stuff, so I know it's not great, but hey, gotta branch out, ya know. Anyway, tell me what you think, if something sucks, let me know so I can change it, can't get better without your help people. :) Also, I'm sure there's spelling errors. I can go over something 50 times and still miss the most obvious stuff, so forgive me. Enjoy.